


My Duty to Protect

by Siolia



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 04:31:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19055293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siolia/pseuds/Siolia
Summary: Ranzal thinks Malka is trying to kill him. He must be, if he's making so many mistakes. Isn't this guy supposed to be making the perfect armor?The truth is far less exciting, but it answers a lot of questions.





	My Duty to Protect

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic so I'm sorry if it's really bad.

Ranzal toyed with the laces of his bracer as he entered the main hall of the castle. Catching the eye of Elisanne and Cibella, he called and waved to them, and they approached.

“Hey ladies,” he said.

“Hello, Ranzal. Where have you been?” Cibelle noticed the scuffs and scratches on his armor and the dirt and sweat covering his face. “Busy?”

“Musashi an’ I had a sparring match. Was tryin’ ta get ‘im ta draw that deadly second sword o’ his.”

Elisanne scoffed, “And did he?”

“Naw, of course not.” He lifted his arm and showed them his bracer, a large slash going across it, biting into his skin and leaving a small scratch, “Got a couple good ones in, though.”

Cibelle made a small sound of surprise, “That is some intense training.”

“I told ya, I was tryin’a make him draw his second blade. That means gettin’ deadly.”

“What is the point of getting seriously hurt in training? We worry about you enough out in the field, we shouldn’t have to worry about you in our own castle,” Elisanne sighed.

“Yeah yeah,” Ranzal waved her off.

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get an earful from Malka anyway,” Elisanne smirked and then poked the dent in his side, “since he spent all night making the repairs you asked of him just yesterday after the imperial onslaught.”

Ranzal felt a vein twitch in his forehead. That guy was always going on and on about the perfect armor and how he hated him for ruining his work all the time. Why couldn’t he just understand that he was a soldier, and soldiers get hit sometimes? He wouldn’t be doing his job if he didn’t get in danger’s way once in a while.

Elisanne chuckled, “Are you starting to rethink such deadly training?”

“Naw.” Ranzal trudged off, “How am I supposed to get stronger if I don’t have a real challenge? Doesn’t matter what that guy thinks anyway. We just don’t see eye to eye at all.”

“I think you’re more similar than you’d like to admit,” she called after him.

He scowled and toyed with the laces again. He really didn’t want to see Malka. The armorer’s shrill shriek was already scratching the back of his mind. But, soon enough he was in front of the workshop. Oddly, there was no clanging of hammer on steel. Was he there? The girls wouldn’t have told him to see him if he wasn’t.

He knocked twice on the door, loud. No response. Then, he tried the handle, but before he could push the door, it was pulled open. Amber eyes with dark bags stared at him, glowering, “What do you want?”

“Nice ta see you too,” Ranzal rolled his eyes, “I need ya ta fix my armor.”

“Again—wait, never mind.” Malka stepped aside to let Ranzal in, “Let me see it.”

Ranzal unlaced his bracers and handed them over. While Malka was busy assessing the damage, he worked on the breastplate. He couldn’t shake the eerie tingling in his spine from the silence. Normally, Malka would be drilling into his ear, but it seemed he was giving intense focus to his work instead. This meant the small cough wasn’t missed.

“Why didn’t you go to Cleo,” he asked following.

Ranzal pulled the plate off his chest and set it on the workbench next to the bracers, “Are you kiddin’? She’d ruin it with frills again.”

“This seems entirely superficial,” Malka insisted.

“Are you even looking at it?” Ranzal poked into the gouge, wiggling his finger on the other side.

Malka’s brow furrowed, sweat beading across the thin lines, “Ah, for once, you’re right.”

He moved on to the breastplate. Ranzal couldn’t believe he missed something so blatantly obvious. Was he trying to punish him by not repairing his armor and then give a crappy lie to cover it up? If Elisanne or Cleo knew he tried to pull that, he’d be up a creek.

“You should still see Cleo,” Malka said.

Ranzal frowned, “For what?”

“Bruises, cuts. They should be disinfected.”

“It’s fine, I can do that much myself.” Ranzal peered at him, ”Why do you care so much anyway?”

“Even scratches can get infected,” Malka picked up a small hammer to work out the dents, letting out a long breath.

“If you want me out, just say so," Ranzal huffed.

Malka didn’t answer, instead killing the silence with swift strikes to the metal. Ranzal watched him for a beat and then went to the door. What had him in such a sour mood? Couldn’t even muster up the effort to challenge him like he usually did. Although he was glad he didn’t have to leave with a headache, he almost felt disappointed.

The crashing of metal sheets and tools stopped him from leaving the room entirely. He whipped around to see Malka gripping the table, legs quivering under him. A small whimper escaped him before he collapsed completely, slipping to one side and tumbling down to the floor. Ranzal was there in seconds.

“Hey, pal! What’s wrong?”

Malka’s face was white, accentuating the dark circles. He seemed to be focusing on breathing, scared of what was happening. Ranzal didn’t see any wounds, so he was probably sick or something.

“Now who’s the one who should see Cleo?” He muttered.

“I just…need sleep,” Malka groaned. “Didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“Judging from your looks, do you ever?” Ranzal shook his head, “Sleep is one of the best things in the world! You can’t push it off like that.”

“You’re the one who wanted the repairs right away.” Malka pushed himself up, “And, you interrupted my nap.”

“You were napping here?” Ranzal guffawed, “Man…”

“Be quiet. Just go so I can finish the repairs and get some sleep.”

Ranzal shook his head, “You gotta get to Cleo, or Hildegard, or if you really want your privacy, we could see Ricardt.”

“Ugh,” Malka tried to stand on his feet, but fell back down to his knees.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to bring ya.”

“What? No!” Malka tried to protest, but Ranzal scooped him up and threw him over his shoulder, “Goddess’ tears, put me down Ranzal, I swear!”

“Ain’t nothin’ you can do that would stop me.” Ranzal laughed, “Least not without a weapon.”

Malka sighed, defeated, “I hate you, Ranzal.”

“I know, I know.”

Cleo was the easiest to find, and she said Malka had a fever from exhaustion. She prescribed bed rest for the rest of the night along with lots of water and a fever reducer. Before she could move another muscle to watch over him, Ranzal volunteered to do it, since it was partially his fault in the first place. He brought Malka to his room and tucked him in all nice and snug, meaning he dumped him on the bed and set a pitcher of water on the nightstand. Malka rearranged himself and closed his eyes.

“You didn’t have to help, but thank you,” he said.

“Least ya had the tact to be grateful.” Ranzal pulled up a chair, “Get some sleep. I’ll make sure no one bothers ya.”

“You bother me.”

“Yeah, sure, pal.” Ranzal laughed joylessly.

A good few minutes passed, Malka laying in silence with his arm covering his eyes and Ranzal pulling up a chair and finding an apple out of seemingly thin air. Chomp, chewing, chomp, chewing, and chomp, until finally Malka moved his arm and glared at Ranzal. The soldier stared back, raising a brow.

“Can’t a guy eat in peace?”

“Quietly,” Malka sighed.

“Thought ya was sleepin’,” Ranzal finished his apple, core and all, and reached out to pull the blankets up around the armorer. “Ya really should.”

“It’s hard,” Malka swatted Ranzal’s sticky hand away and pulled the blankets up himself. “Too many thoughts.”

Ranzal hummed, “What do you mean?”

“Too many ideas, new projects as well as how I can improve certain aspects of my work and…where I’ve failed.”

“You haven’t failed at all,” Ranzal was surprised that Malka, so full of himself, would admit any folly.

Malka stared at him, “If I had made your repairs correctly, the blade wouldn’t have gone through.”

“Naw, that’s because I did something stupid. Elisanne already told me, I shouldn’t be training like that.”

Malka shook his head, “You told me before, Ranzal. You’re a soldier. Soldiers do whatever it takes to protect people. It’s my job as an armorer to make sure to protect those who are protecting others, to make the armor correctly so they don’t get hurt or die. That’s why I worked through the night to fix your armor. If you didn’t have that armor ready, if you were missing anything, it is the literal line between life and death. You’d be that much closer to dying, and we can’t lose you, Ranzal.”

Ranzal felt a dull heat rise to his cheeks. The way he said that, it almost sounded like…”You worry ‘bout me?”

“Of course I do!” Malka sat up, glaring again, “You’re important to the castle, Ranzal! This whole place would fall apart without your incessant cheeriness. You boost our morale, and you’re one of the strongest fighters, and everyone just…”

Malka’s mouth formed a straight line and his shoulders sagged, “…likes you.”

“Well shucks.” Ranzal felt awkward. He’d never had expected Malka to actually think so highly of him, considering his usual attitude towards him, “I can think of plenty o’ people who hate my guts, Elisanne bein’ one of them.”

“She doesn’t hate you, you just have different viewpoints and it frustrates her.”

“What about you?” Ranzal smirked.

“What about me?” Malka’s brow scrunched up, and he looked concerned.

“Do you like me?”

Color dusted Malka’s pale cheeks, and sweat started to reappear on his brow, “I don’t actually hate you, if that’s what you think. I’d never wish any harm to come to you.”

“How sweet, but do you like me? The way you were talkin’, I’d think ya actually have a sweet spot for me.” Ranzal grinned.

Malka broke out into a coughing fit and wilted, laying back down. Ranzal frowned, “Hey, hey. I don’t mean to be pushin’ ya too hard.”

“Maybe it’s better if I rest for real now.”

“Sure, let me do the talkin’.” Ranzal leaned back in his chair, “Like I said earlier, I don’t think you failed at all. You’ve been doin’ your damnedest to keep everyone safe, and without you, we’d have been wiped out a long time ago. You save us every day, and everyone can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout your skills. So, don’t go thinkin’ you’re not good enough or anything like that. It ain’t like ya.”

Malka was quiet. He’d pulled the blanket up to his eyes, which were closed, as if he were a turtle trying to hide in his shell. Ranzal thought back and actually came to like that analogy. With his big, golden armor hiding his wiry frame, he really was a turtle. If he were to fall over wearing it, Ranzal wondered if Malka would have been able to get back up. Maybe that’s what his spear was for, to help him stand.

He said, “Ya know, you may not hate me, and we may bicker like cats an’ dogs, but I do like ya Malka. I hope instead o’ just comrades, we could be friends.”

Malka opened his eyes again, watery from the coughing and glazed over from being nearly asleep a minute ago, “…You’re an idiot, Ranzal.” Knowing this was how Malka was, Ranzal waited for him to finish. “You don’t have to ask to be friends.”

Chuckling, Ranzal reached out and pulled the blanket down from Malka’s face. The armorer was smiling back at him. It was different from the triumphant smile he wore when bragging about his golden armor. It was soft and warm, vulnerable. Something hurt inside of the soldier when he looked at it. He’d seen many weaknesses from Malka today, and it allowed them to grow closer. He wanted to get to know Malka more, to see what else he was hiding in his turtle shell.

“You’re staring. Did I say something strange?” Malka’s cheeks turned pink again, and Ranzal nearly slapped himself.

“Naw, I just…I’m not used ta makin’ friends in quiet moments. It’s usually, ya know,” Ranzal leaned back again, “WOW! You fight good! Let’s stuff our guts! Punch me!”

“And then you get holes in your armor,” Malka laughed. “I understand.”

“Well, pal, friend, for absolutely sure this time, go to sleep. Get rid of those bags under your eyes.”

Malka nodded and finally drifted off. Ranzal, now alone with his beating heart, had a lot to think about.


End file.
